


He does too much for Tucker

by PGT



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, its barely even sex, mostly the prelude to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: Washington wants to do something for Tucker. Tucker likes sex. Washington hasn't had sex or anything like it since before Epsilon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't know shit about dicks. I'm a virgin, and I know even less about ED. This was a spontaneous fic stemming from a much odder idea that Wash can't have sex anymore b/c it reminds him of some of what Epsilon showed him.  
> This is my first fic close to Smut, so please comment if you have any advice or criticisms! Got a little advice from froggyflan, go check them out; theyre mainly Overwatch roadrat fics. <3

He tried.  
Wash tried so hard to give Tucker the night he wanted—the night he deserved. Their time separated had changed Tucker, he was more mature and somehow he’d really made himself into a respectable man. The first night they’d been in the same room since Freckles shook crash-site bravo, Wash had woken to Tucker’s body pressed close, arms and legs tangled into his, disheveled and outgrown hair tickling Wash’s nose. Tucker’s eyes were red in the morning, but he denied any accusations about tear stained shirts Washington made.  
He found Tucker in his bunk nearly every night, and of course, some mornings were inevitably awkward in the result of an irregular dream.  
“Look, man… It wasn’t on purpose. I just haven’t had sex in like… six years, not since Sister—not my sister, Grif’s sister, I don’t have… never mind.”  
The excuse was always dismissed with a snarky “You think that’s bad, imagine how long it’s been for me,” and a wave of hands.  
But Tucker was getting closer, and Washington couldn’t deny his own attachment to the younger man. He noticed the flirtation, the stifled questions, the blushing.  
He wanted to reciprocate, and what would Tucker want most? Sex, probably.  
Washington had come to the conclusion one of those awkward mornings, and the words fell out of his mouth before he could catch them.  
“What was it about?”  
Tucker was petrified. Washington always responded with dismissal, and this wasn’t dismissal. Worst of all, there was no way in hell he was telling Wash what he dreamed about.  
It wasn’t so cliché as dreaming about Washington himself, no, but the allusion was there. The dreams varied, and Tucker wasn’t the kind to remember every little detail. Still, the passion in the dreams wasn’t something he wanted to share with Washington. He felt too respectable to mar with such recollections. “J-just sex, nothing special.”  
He liked Washington. He wouldn’t find himself walking to Washington’s room every night if he didn’t have some sort of commitment. But they’d never done it.  
Washington wasn’t the most inconspicuous of interrogators, though, and his questions made his intentions very clear. “Who was it with?”  
Tucker shifted on the floor, too embarrassed to sit on the bed with Wash as he killed his hard-on, especially now that Wash was having him recollect the memory.  
“No one special, man. Just some guy… I think he was blond but like— no one I know.”  
Fuck, he’s blond. He’ll take it the wrong way.  
Did Washington want to have sex with him? The question barreled through Tucker’s brain, clawing for evidence that Washington was interested. He couldn’t find anything.  
The mattress creaked as Washington moved his weight. His jaw was set with thoughts he left unvoiced. They weren’t together, but they might as well be. Should they have sex? That’s what couples did. But they weren’t a couple. But how else could he show his affection for Tucker? Tucker liked sex more than anything, barring his son.  
Washington left the conversation at that, having drawn his conclusion.  
Three nights passed, no awkward conversations, if you ignored the one in which Washington requested Donut’s advice, a mistake he wouldn’t be making again any time soon.  
The fourth night, Tucker climbed into the bunk and immediately noticed Wash’s status. “Still awake?”  
“Do you want to have sex?”  
The words were deliberate, as he’d found no pickup-line to use and wanted to be direct with his intentions.  
Tucker was silent for a moment, then he sat up, silhouette staring where Wash lay. “Are- are you serious?” His voice was a breath of doubt traced with hope.  
“Yeah.” Washington sat up too, looking towards the foot of the bed. He sounded confident, but his fists clenched their shared blanket. “Yeah, I’m serious.”  
There was a beat of stillness before Washington felt Tucker move. His left hand moved to touch his neck, hesitated, then settled on his shoulder. Wash shifted to face him, and was greeted with lips neither soft nor rough. He felt guilty for his own chapped lips, licked them nervously. Tucker licked them too, and then their tongues were intertwined. Tucker took the lead, feeling for anything and everything he could discover in Wash’s mouth. He moved his right hand to Wash’s chest and a small noise sounded out. They parted, “Shirts off?”  
Wash suggested it, and doffed his shirt. Tucker tugged his off too, and his hands were on Wash’s chest, his mouth on the juncture between his shoulders and neck. His thumbs ran over scars, and he itched to kiss each of them away.  
Washington, having released the blanket to remove his shirt, needed somewhere to put his arms. He ended up placing them on Tucker’s shoulders, hands in his hair. Tucker moved to look at Washington and kissed him again, a kiss he participated much more in than the former. Tucker separated with a swear and hazy eyes.  
“I’m already getting hard, dude…”  
Washington looked down to verify the statement. Tucker hadn’t lied. Tucker laughed with a sense of embarrassment mixed with glee, and Washington moved to palm his partner. He yelped in surprise, eyes widening and looking up to Washington.  
“Fuck, that’s hot…”  
Washington hummed a wordless response, busying himself with Tucker’s pleasure.  
During your first time with someone, you can really learn about them. Tucker was noisy. He spoke, a lot. Most sentences ending in a pet name or a swear. He liked to touch, but knew where Washington might not want touched. He had no idea where Tucker got the idea his implants shouldn’t be touched, but it was an accurate assumption.  
Washington was quiet, focused. He ignored his own pleasure for his partner’s. Perhaps because he feels they deserve it more, or that he doesn’t need it. Maybe he didn’t want it.  
Tucker was, needless to say. Enjoying himself. He could tell, Wash could tell, and honestly anyone in the next room over who wasn’t too busy themselves could tell too. “Wash—fuck… David, I can’t be the only one getting attention here,” He reached toward’s Washington’s groin.  
Wash panicked.  
“No!” It was a bark, his voice raised an octave higher than normal. “Tucker, let me do this.”  
It was too late. Tucker froze, and Washington stopped moving, and the gears turned in Tucker’s brain.  
“Your dick’s not hard, dude.”  
Washington blushed furiously. He hadn’t expected it, but maybe he should’ve. He hadn’t had sex in years, hadn’t had a wet dream or a hard-on he needed to take care of since Epsilon was implanted.  
He stammered. “I-it’s just been a while—“  
“Wouldn’t you be more sensitive then…?” Tucker seemed to forget himself, brushing Wash’s hand off of his thigh and eyeing Wash’s shorts.  
Washington didn’t respond, and Tucker spoke again. “Is it ED?”  
He blushed again. “I’m not sure… I hadn’t really known about it…”  
Tucker nodded, trying to understand. “Well, that’s cool—not like, cool, but like, I get it. I had some problems back in Bloodgulch, so.” He shrugged.  
“You wanna like… make out instead?”


End file.
